


The 27th Hunger Games

by Ava_Genesis



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_Genesis/pseuds/Ava_Genesis
Summary: Kye Greenlaice is an 18 year old girl that has everything going for her. She lives in district 7, is promised to a man she has knows all her life, and has a solid job in her family's printing press. She is content with her life and what she would grow up to be- that is until it was all taken from her. Until the reaping...New, original characters that belongs to an entirely different era than the one you are familiar with.





	1. Preface

For once in my life, I was happy. Well, perhaps happy isn't the right word. Content better describes it.  
Okay so let's restart this.  
For once in my life, I was content. I had everything going for me; my whole future planned out and hell, I might have even grown up to be happy.  
However there is always a “but”. You knew it was coming.  
But, I was never able to live that life. No, it was stolen from me by those who were too powerful for me to even get angry at. I couldn't scream or curse at them, so my life became one of a quiet rebellion. Now life is smiling through clenched teeth for people I don't even know or care about. It's sobbing in the middle of the night; not caring who hears me. Trembling hands shaking too hard to even write this down without looking like a five year old’s penmanship.  
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I suppose I should start at the beginning.  
So here it is. Hi. My name is Kye and I'm the victor of the 27th hunger games


	2. Chapter 1

The cold morning air nips at my toes. I groan and pull my blanket tighter around me, trying to fight the chill and return back to the warm embrace of sleep. But it’s too late; I’m already awake. I groan once more and open my eyes to see the watery sunlight pouring through my window.  
“Today is reaping day,” I whisper to myself. The day everyone in the districts had been dreading. The day where one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen would be chosen from each of the districts. I only had my eighteenth birthday three weeks ago, so it was the last possible year I could be reaped.  
Those that were chosen were sent to train for a week and parade around like show ponies to gain the favor of the sponsors. They then fight in an arena to the death until a single victor remains. It was terrible to watch, but it didn't concern me too much. There were so many names in the drawing, there was only the smallest of chances that I would be picked.  
As I stare up at the ceiling, I hear a light tap of knuckles against wood. My mom stands hesitantly smiling at the doorway of the room I share with my sister. She’s a beautiful woman with almond shaped eyes and a rich brown skin tone the same color as mine. The hard life that the districts promise had done little to mar her beauty.  
“Hey Kye honey. I just came in to wake you up. Are you ready for today?’  
“Yeah,” I respond. “Nothing will happen to me anyways, right?” Her small smile grows and she walks in the room to sit on the foot of my bed.  
“You’re so strong. My baby is one of the strongest girls I know.”  
“Thank you, Mom.” I have to force a smile. Despite what I tell myself and her, there rests a seed of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach.  
“I’ve drawn a bath for you outside when you’re ready,” my mom says after a pause. I nod and she gets up and walks over to my older sister’s bed to shake her awake. After a few tries, she gives up and heads out of the room; presumably to wake my dad. Mom is always the first one to wake up. I sigh and push myself up. The water for the bath is luke warm and pleasant. It takes a bit of scrubbing, but soon, I feel as clean as a newborn babe. After drying off and throwing on a light pink cotton dress, I wander out to our living room to find my mom chatting to a platinum blonde girl in a white lacy dress on our couch- my best friend, Genevra Ardor.  
“Hey Gene,” I call out. She stops talking mid sentence and her eyes light up as soon as she sees me.  
“Kye!” She jumps up to pull me into a tight hug. “I love the way that dress looks on you.” She holds me at arm’s length to examine me. “Were you going to wear the brown shoes with it?”  
“Well I was actually thinking about the bla-”  
“Brown will look better.” She turns to my mom. “Thanks for the chit chat Mrs. Greenlaice, but Kye and I have to get ready,” and with that, she pulls me out of the living room, through our hallway and into my room at the end of the hall.  
My sister Azure sits up groggily at our arrival. “Hey Gene,” she yawns, finally awake.  
“Hey Azzy! May I just say that you look absolutely radiant today?”  
“Please don’t call me Azzy, and I just got up.”  
“Doesn’t matter. You’re always stunning.” Azure rolls her eyes and stumbles out of bed to find our mom.  
As soon as she leaves, Gene starts to prattle on about the latest gossip while wrestling my long curly hair into an updo.  
“Did you hear that Calub Rudy and Aldera Mildwind are totally a thing now?”  
“No.” I wince as she pulls on a strand of hair particularly tight. “Where did you hear a thing like that?”  
“Pele told me.”  
“You do realize Pele is the biggest gossip of the age, don’t you?”  
“Yes but just the other week I saw them talking. And Aldera was doing that whole twist your hair around your finger and lean in close to the guy you like thing. It was adorable to watch. Oh Kye, don't you think they’d make the cutest couple and the cutest babies?” I can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm as she continues on like this for the next 10 minutes until finally-  
“Finished!” she announces. I stand up to look in the mirror, and I can’t help but like what I see. She has managed to make me look elegant, but also with a touch of playfullnes. Several twirling strands have been left out to frame my angular face and the updo looks complicated, but somehow simple at the same time.  
“Oh Gene, I love it!”  
“I know,” she joins me in the mirror, “I did good. We look amazing,” she sighs. I smirk but nod in agreement, Despite having completely different complexions, mine a dark summer night and her’s a pale winter morning, it couldn’t be denied that there were strong similarities in our faces. Same sharp cheekbones, same gentle smile, same wide eyes. Because of these similarities, my boyfriend, Denali, would often jokingly call us “the twins”.  
I slip on my pair of brown shoes and we both walk out to the living room where my mom and dad sit sipping tea.  
“But I don’t think he’ll be chosen, besides, if he was, he would have no chance-” My dad cuts himself off when he sees us standing in the doorway. ‘Hey girls! It's good to see you, Gene. How’s your old man?” Both of our dad’s worked together as my dad would often make the books that Gene’s dad would sell in his store.  
“Oh you know my dad, he’s just as stressed as ever even though he won’t admit it.”  
“Yeah I do know that,” my dad replies, laughing. “So how are you two feeling about today?” Gene and I exchange looks and shrug at each other.  
“We’re feeling alright about it,” I say. “There are so many names in the running-”  
“-I don’t really think we have that much of a possiblity of being chosen,’ Gene finishes for me. My mom gently purses her lips and Azure walks into the room to join our conversation. She sits herself down at the kitchen table and picks up a peice of bread to groggily chew at it..  
‘I’m still concerned, honey,” my mom says to me. “Although I am glad that you are the last of our children and its the last year you have the opportunity to get reaped.”  
“Until your grandchildren are old enough.” Azure counters. We all go silent and look down at the floor thinking about my brothers’ children, the oldest of which is nine.  
“Well that leaves us a bit of time,” my mom says forlornely, and in the moment I realize how hard this is for her. Both she and my dad were born before the hunger games were established. They never had to go through the games themselves, but they had to go through the stress of the possibility that any one of their five children could be chosen.  
After a deafenining silence, my dad pipes up, “Well at least we got work off today!” The tension is eased out of the room with that statement.  
“And that is the one good thing about the reaping,” I reply, forcing a laugh. After a beat where everyone relaxes a bit, I say, “So, we’re going to grab Denali, then walk down there together.”  
“Of course. We wouldn’t expect anything different,” my mom replies, forcing a smile,” You guys do the same thing every year; your little traditions.” I return her smile and Gene links arms with me as she gently pulls me out the door.  
“To good luck and good life!” is the last thing I hear my dad say before the door closes behind us. I push the image of my mom’s worried face out of my mind as we walk down the bustling street towards Denali’s house. Everywhere around us are the sounds of people getting ready on this, the most important day of the year. As we walk, several people call out hello to us and we return the greetings with waves. Everyone seems a bit grim. Their eyes don’t quite reach ours. I assume they’re thinking that our names are in the drawing as well. But it doesn’t bother me; I won’t get chosen.  
We live in the nicer part of District 7, as our families are a bit better off. My father runs the printing shop, and is head of fifty men. Gene’s is in charge of the general store. And Denali’s dad is in a management position over at the sawmill. We were all just blessed, I suppose.  
It doesn’t take long before we get to his house because it’s at the end of our long street. As we walk up, I see him already outside waiting for us leaning against his door, the epitome of composure. He looks rather dashing in a button-up shirt that fights snuggly on his muscular frame. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms. His black hair that is normally falling into his eyes is combed and greased back and his sun-kissed skin looks clean and polished. He bites his lip when he sees me, causing me to blush.  
“Well isn’t it my two favorite twins,” he calls out. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me closer to him as soon as I’m in arm’s reach.  
“Damn babe you look gorgeous,” he mutters into my ear. He plants a heavy kiss on my lips, a feat that requires my to stand on my toes and him to bend down quite a bit. Every time he kisses me, I get the chills, even though I have known him for basically my whole life, and have been with him for the past four years. This time was no different. A shudder runs through my whole body and Denali’s mouth curves into a smile against mine.  
After about ten seconds of this, Gene loses her patience and pushes on Denali’s shoulder to break us apart.  
“Come on you two love birds, we have to go to the town square.” Denali unwillingly lets me go, and grabs my hand instead. Gene again links herself to my other arm, and we join the crowd all heading for the same direction. On our way, we see mothers fussing with collars, small children running between legs, and lovers exchanging worried and hushed words. We pass by my two brothers with their own families, who I each wave to, and finally make it to the square.  
The town hall resides at the top of the square, and peacekeeper homes frame the edges. Giant screens have been placed on either side of a raised platform. On the platform rests two podiums with two large glass bowls upon them. In the bowls are hundreds of slips of paper with the names of every child ages twelve to eighteen scrawled upon them. One bowl contains the girls’ names, the boys’ in the other. Seeing the bowls raises the same creeping anxiety I felt that morning, but I do my best to ignore it. I won’t be chosen.  
Also on the platform rest three chairs. Mayor Dellwood sits in one; a short, but attractive middle aged man who has charm to spare. The dark and brooding Baye Shrier sits in another. He was the victor of the games three years ago at the age of sixteen, and the only winner from our district thus far. He will be training the two tributes chosen today. Baye sits will his arms crossed, feet out in front of him, slouching in the wooden chair. He looks out across the congregation with a bored, relaxed expression.  
The last chair remains empty. The peacekeepers stand at attention around the square, looking impeccable for the hidden cameras in their white uniforms.  
Denali gives me one last kiss on the forehead before he separates from us to join the boy’s line. To register that everyone shows up, the security officers prick each of our fingers to mark our attendance with our blood. I wince as the needle goes in, but it’s so fast that the pain quickly fades. The peacekeeper presses my finger down onto the book before her, then moves her scanner over the small stain. “Kye Greenlaice” comes up on the screen.  
She releases my hand and calls out “Next.” I hear Gene step up behind me.  
We walk to the gathering crowd of girls our age, and Gene’s hand slips into mine; another tradition of our’s. It takes a few minutes, but soon the square is filled up and the call goes out that every last citizen of District 7 is present and accounted for. Every eye slides to the front as the sound of heels on wood echos off the buildings and all murmurings silence.  
Tresha Rosengild, the Capitol escort for our district walks up the stairs to the center of the platform where a microphone sits. She taps the mic to see if its on.  
“Welcome, District 7, to the 27th Hunger Games.” then she launches into the same rehearsed speech she performs every year. She explains the history of Panem, of the wars and misery that existed before in the dark days. Of how the Capitol saved the districts and disciplined them for their rebellion. Many people stare at the ground while she speaks. Tresha has been the escort for our district ever since the games were established, but the time doesn’t show show on her face. Her light pink hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and a circlet of roses rests on her brow. She wears a light grey sleeveless dress that fits to her form, and on her arms I can see thorny vine tattoos curling around. Her face is severe, but at the same time kind, as if she were a strict mother.  
I look around and see my family clustered together in the watching crowd. My parents stand next to my sister, and my two brothers, each with families of their own, are close by to them as well. The oldest, Jensin, catches my eye and winks. I smile and look forward again just as Tresha finishes her speech. She next introduces Baye Shrier as the only victor from our district.  
I feel Gene’s hand tighten around mine as he stands up, then sits back down. She’s always had a bit of a crush on the mysterious Baye, and as I glance over to her, I notice her cheeks are flushed.I catch her eye and raise my eyebrows at her.  
“What?” she mutters so that only I can hear. “It’s hot out here.”  
“I suppose it is,” I whisper back. The sun has burned off all the morning chill. “But he is too.” I half wince, half smile as I’m rewarded with her bony elbow digging into my side.  
Tresha’s voice rings out again, “Now that all the customaries are out of the way, may I present our president, Diana Rolltide.” She stands to the side of the microphone instead of sitting in the seat that I now see has been reserved for her. The aged, smiling face of the president of Panem flashes on both the screens.  
“Good afternoon districts,” she exclaims, her broad smile stretching even wider. “And welcome to the 27th annual Hunger Games!” The crow’s feet around her eyes crinkle with the statement, and her face shows true happiness, as if she looks forward to this time all year. To be fair, she probably does. I find it amusing that the Capitol could change so much about a human’s body, but try as they might, they couldn’t stop the natural process of aging. Although Rolltide does look 20 years younger than her true age, mid eighties.  
She continues, “We have a very special games prepared for you with new, cutting edge technology, and a state of the art arena. All of you are in for a real treat!” I glance around at the grim faces of the other eighteen year olds around me. I don’t think any of them would ever consider the Hunger Games to be a “treat”.  
“I’m so glad we have these demonstrations. They provide the true order and structure that this nation so desperately needs.” A slight edge has crept into her voice, and the smile plastered on her face turns sharper, more hawk-like. “Let us not forget why these little games are necessary. Routine is needed for a well-oiled machine after all. Panem without the games would surely fall into the ruin that it was during the dark days; misery and pain tucked into every corner of the mind. Can you imagine reverting back to that primitive state? And it surely would happen if someone were to defy the laws of this fair land. We must all play our part in order for Panem as a while to succeed.” Her smile has shifted into a sneer, but it quickly turns pleasant again. “So, here’s to this year’s Hunger Games and every year after.” She raises a cup full of an amber colored liquid that has been resting on her desk. “To good luck, and good life.”  
With a pop, the screens change to black and Tresha walks up to the mic.  
“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Let’s get on with the reaping, shall we?”  
This time, it’s my turn to squeeze Gene’s hand. The same anxiety rises up again, but this time it’s accompanied with a feeling of nausea. Each clack of Trisha’s shoes on the platform is a beat of my heart until she finally makes it to the bowl that contain the girls’ names. My heart gets tighter, my breathing heavier. I see Gene shoot me a concerned glance.  
Trisha’s hand plunges into the bowl.  
Sweat forms on my brow. It won’t be me.  
She selects a name.  
It won’t be me.  
Heels on wood back to the mic.  
IT WON’T BE-  
“Kye Greenlaice,” rings throughout the square and sends a piercing arrow straight through my heart…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This book is going to be such a beast for me to tackle. Sorry if I upload slow! I'm just trying to get it as perfect as I can. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

...And time slows, slows, almost stops. There’s a rush of blood in my ears and my eyes blur out of focus.  
No.  
No.  
It’s not me, it can't be, but the peacekeepers are moving towards my area as if they’re walking through honey. Gene drops my hand and gasps, a look of horror on her face and tears brimming in her eyes.  
My heart is one beat per minute, and everything is overwhelming. All I can hear is my breathing, my heart, my blood; all deafening. I can’t see anything, my eyes won’t focus. The taste of copper, I’ve bitten my tongue too hard. Without Gene’s hand, I feel isolated; a single island in a sea of people. But the peacekeepers finally make it to me. One grabs me by the arm and the whole world shifts into a different gear. Everything speeds up to its normal pace and I can breathe regularly again. Except it keeps going faster until everything is too bright and sharp.   
They’re pulling me away, and I struggle to turn my head back to look at Gene.The last I see of her, she sinks to her knees, her lovely form shaking, her hands covering her face.  
My head snaps back to stare straight ahead. I’m too shocked to cry, too shocked to be angry, too shocked to do anything. We’ve already made it to the stairs, and firm hands on my back lead me up. I walk across the stage by myself, so utterly alone. Tresha’s hands guide me to stand on her left. I stare at the ground as she announces me.  
“Can we get a round of applause for our first female tribute?” A smattering of light applause arises, but quickly fades out. “And now for the boys.” Heels on wood again.  
My eyes dart up to find my family’s faces in the crowd of spectators. I find them easily by following the glances of pity shot towards them from the other onlookers. They stand in a row holding hands, each one with their backs straight, tears flowing down many of their own faces. The sight of them all makes me feel weak, and for a second I fear that I might cry. But then a different thought enters my mind. If they can stand there so stoically, then I can too. It feels as if steel has been poured down my backbone, and I’m able to lift my chin up proudly.  
Meanwhile,Tresha has already made it back to the microphone with the other victim’s- I mean tribute’s- name. She unfolds the small slip of paper and her voice rings out once more.  
“Marikan Tinderly.” Immediately after Tresha says the last syllable of the boy’s name, a piercing scream shatters the silence.  
“No! No! I refuse!” The voice is shrill and a quick scan of the area informs me that it belongs to Marikan’s mother. “You can’t take him away from me! He’s only thirteen! Please have some compassion! He has provided for our family ever since his father died and without him we surely wouldn’t survive the season change! Please!” The voice comes from a mousy woman with eyes too big for her head. However, the peacekeepers have already made it to her son. His neck is craned back, looking for his mother. She struggles to push through the crowd to him, but the people surrounding her hold her back. She is disgracing her son, and if she makes it to him, it would only embarrass him more.  
“Let me get to my boy!” She changes tactics. ”He- he has a brother! He can volunteer for him; go in his place! Rowan you spineless idiot, where are you? Volunteer for your damn brother- you don’t help out anyways!” Marikan plods along the center aisle, a tear or two escaping down his cheeks. His mother is being dragged out of the square by several strong men, but still she screams.  
“No!” she yells over and over again. I look around the square. Many people are shaking their heads in disgust, but others eyes are filled with pity. I spot Marikan’s brother, Rowan, in the crowd with the rest of the fifteen year olds. He stands white-faced and tight-lipped, his cheeks wet from tears, completely ashamed of what he could not do.  
I watch him for a bit, and now the others around him stare at him with the same mixture of pity and disgust that the adults had shown his mother. I turn my gaze over to Marikan when I hear his boots on the stares. I gaze over at the boy who provided for his family at such a young age. He angrily rubs at his face, trying his best to clean off the tears before anyone notices. He can’t be seen as weak before the games even start.  
He’s a tall kid, taller than me, with buzzed curly hair and a sandy skin tone. His clothes look shabby and patched, and his pants are much too big for him.  
Another smattering of applause follows Tresha’s announcement of him.  
“Now shake hands,” she says. I reach across her with my right hand.  
As I look into the puffy eyes of Marikan Tinderly, I try to think of everything that I know about him. I know that his family is very poor and lives in a small shack on the edge of town. They have to beg for everything they own because of their father’s shameful past. I remember when I was about eleven that his father was known as the town drunk. I don't think I had ever seen him sober. One day, I heard people screaming at each other at the end of my street. It was Mr. and Mrs. Tinderly. She was yelling that he had been cheating on her with some whore and that she couldn’t believe he was doing this to their family. He was screaming back that he needed to be satisfied and that she was doing a poor job at raising the kids anyway. By that time, quite a crowd had grown. The last thing he said was that he didn't give two shits about their family and that the little wretches could starve for all he cared. She slapped him across the cheek and ran off; a woman scorned.  
Two weeks later, another rumor was running rampant that Mr. Dannel Tinderly was drinking on the job and had been careless at work. A tree crushed him flat when his coworkers cut it down. And suddenly, Mrs. Kenda Tinderly didn’t have a cheating husband, she had a dead one. With three hungry mouths to feed, she couldn’t get a job to save her life, or so I overheard my mom say to my dad. Everyone turned up their noses to her and her disgraced family. I think she finally did get a small job because I saw her kids begging less often on the street corners.  
While all this goes through my head, my hand is firmly gripped by Marikan. He squeezes it a little bit too tight, but I keep my face stoney and serious. Another tear escapes down his cheek and he wipes it away as we drop our hands.  
“Well here you have it, folks. The two tributes from District 7,” Tresha announces. “To good luck, and good life.” She turns towards the stairs and Marikan and I follow behind her. As we walk, the anthem of Panem plays from speakers around the square. We all enter through through the open doors of the justice building.


	4. Chapter 3

As soon the thick double doors close behind us, we are both escorted into different rooms by peacekeepers.  
The peacekeeper guiding me says, “We are gathering your friends and family for your final goodbyes. You will have five minutes with each group. After you have seen all of them, you will board the bullet train that will take you to the Capitol. Is all this clear?” His voice is gruff and deep, and I recognize him faintly as Peacekeeper Patton. I nod my head yes.  
He leads me into a room with a single table and chair, and closes the door behind him. There’s a window on one of the walls, and I forlornly gaze out of it, trying to take in as much of my lush green home that I can. Soon, all the trees of the forest will be replaced with the concrete jungle of the Capitol. A wistful sigh escapes my mouth.  
The door is opened abruptly and Denali pushes through. I immediately stumble forward and collapse onto him. His strong arms wrap around me, and for a second, I almost feel safe, almost as if none of the past hour has happened. But he pulls away from me too soon, and the pained expression on his face tells me that it has happened.  
For a second, I wonder why he came in first instead of my parents, but then I think that he probably demanded to see me first. It was something he would do.   
His eyes catch my attention and looks at me as if he was searching for my soul. “Kye…” he mutters, and in that single word, I know how he fees. He’s just as scared and lost as I am. The way he says my name is so powerful, I can’t help myself, I break down. I let myself feel all of the emotions that I had been pushing down, but one dominates them all; fear.  
“Denali… I- I’m so scared.”  
He pulls me to him again, my head resting against his firm body. “I know babe, I know. But you need to listen to me.” I feel the vibrations of his words through his chest. “You need to figure out a way to win, okay? I need you to win- for me. You are my everything, my one and only. You have to come back for me.” The words are rushing out of his mouth, like he feels the need to say as much as he can before the five minutes are up. He pushes me off of him to look into my eyes again so he can see if I’m understanding what he’s saying. “We need each other, right? Kye I know we don’t talk about it much, but we are basically promised to each other. We’ve been exclusive for so long, we’re practically married as it is. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you. I need you to come back so we can get married and have the life everyone expects of us. I can't do it without you Kye. I- I love you.”  
And with that, he’s pressing his lips against mine, but I’m too dumbfounded to kiss back. Denali takes everything slow. He’s only told me that he loves me once before when we were sixteen. It took him months to even kiss me. I knew the words were true, but he used them so sparingly that I was frozen. By the time I can process my immobility, Denali is already being pulled away by the peacekeepers. He resists them as much as he can, an odd, strained expression on his face. I reach for him but another guard holds me back.  
“I love you, Kye Greenlaice!” He yells, the last thing I hear before the door slams shut once more.  
A sob wracks though my body, and I’m surprised that when I touch my face, it’s wet. I didn't even feel the tears. It’s only a couple of seconds before the door opens again and my parents rush through.  
My mom practically runs towards me and envelopes me in a warm hug. I feel my dad’s arms wrap around the both of us. We stay like that for a minute or so until my dad is the first to peel away. My mom lets go after a second too.  
The tears continue to course down my cheeks, and I can see the way I feel reflected in their faces. My mom shares a few comforting words.  
“I meant what I said this morning about you being one of the strongest girls I know. Like when you were seven and you broke your arm playing with your brothers. You walked to me so calmly and you didn’t cry once.” With that last word, a choked sob escapes from between her lips. She covers her mouth with one hand, and my dad wraps an arm around her. He reaches out with his other hand grabs mine. My mom stretches her other up and caresses my face, looking deep into my eyes. We stand there, all connected to one another, a thousand words being passed between our silent stares. When the peacekeepers open the door again, my parents each give me a short hug and a kiss on the cheek. They leave with the guard in white without a struggle.  
All of my siblings pour in the small room next. They each take turns hugging me, grim faces and tight smiles. The second oldest, Bruce, tries to crack a joke, but no one can manage to force a laugh.  
“So what’s your strategy?” Jensin asks me.  
“Oh I don't know. I haven’t thought of that yet.”  
“Well I think that if you manage to get your hands on a weapon, you should trying going for some of those throwing axes.” He turns to Jensin. “Do you remember those?”  
“Oh yeah! We used to practice with those all the time. I remember Kye being pretty good at them.” He shoots me a quick wink. “But that was, what? Six years ago? Do you still remember anything?”  
“I don’t-”  
“Oh please,” Azure finally cuts in. “Of course you still remember. You were a natural with them.”  
“Okay,” I reply, “I’ll try to go for them, and practice with them in the training center. But who knows if they’ll put them in the arena.”  
“If you show your potential for them, I’m sure they’ll provide some for you,”Jensin reassures me. “You can do this Kye. You just need to remember all the support you have up here in District 7. We all love you, and believe in you. It may be terrible and horrifying, but we all know you can push through this.”   
I get one more hug from each of them before they are escorted out.  
Just when I think the next time the door opens, it will be a peacekeeper to lead me out, Gene opens and slips through the door. She quietly closes it behind her and stays standing at the doorway.  
We stare at each other for a few moments before she says, “I’m sorry that I didn’t take all of this seriously before… you got chosen. If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have been so-”  
She doesn't have time to finish her sentence before my body collides with hers. I hug her as tight as I can without hurting her. It takes her a second, but soon she’s returning the embrace with the same ferocity. And we just held each other the whole five minutes, gently murmuring to each other.  
“Denali told me he loved me again.”  
“Oh so he finally built up the courage to say it again?”  
“I don’t think it’s that. I just think he thinks that I already know he loves me, so he doesn’t have to say it.”  
“Well if I was your boyfriend, I would tell you a hundred times a day. You wouldn’t be able to sleep because I would follow you into your bedroom and keep you up.”  
I chuckle slightly. “Well thank goodness you’re not my boyfriend.”  
“Maybe not. But I do love you.”  
“I love you too, Gene”  
“You better make it back, Kye. You deserve a life better than this.”  
“I will try to do my best, but I just don’t know if I can.”  
“Just do your best to not make any stupid mistakes, although I know it might be hard for you.”  
“How can I? I’m leaving all the stupid here.” I reply weakly. She laughs without making a sound, her head burying itself into my shoulder. Her body shakes suspiciously as if she is crying. I just rub her back; there was not much else to do. The time is up too quickly, and the peacekeeper has to gently pull her away. Once again, I was alone.  
I’m guided throughout the building by faceless guards in white and out a back door. As we walk, I clean off my face as best as I can. I’m joined by Tresha, Baye, and Marikan, and we all make the short walk to the train station together. The flashing cameras on the train platform are already visible, and I steel myself for them, the events of the last twenty minutes rushing through my mind. I suddenly realize how tired I am. All that has happened has utterly exhausted me. At least it will be easy to keep a straight face for the reporters.  
They shout our names, and ask us questions. Ask Baye how he’s been doing, ask Tresha if she wants to move to a different district, ask us how we feel, etc., etc. It’s overwhelming, but it is easy not to react and soon we board the train. It quickly builds speed, and before I know it, we are hurling straight to the center of Panem, the Capitol.


	5. Chapter 4

As soon as we step foot on the train, Tresha rushes us into a car full of couches and squishy chairs. She stands at the head of the room and I sit deep into a couch that practically swallows me. Marikan hesitantly sits on the edge of the soame couch and Baye saunters in and falls into a chair. Once Tresha sees that we are all seated, she starts reading off our itinerary.  
“Dinner will be at 6:00. Its mandatory that we eat breakfast and dinner together together to build team morale. You will eat lunch at the tribute center while you are training. Today, you have your own time until lights out at 10:00. We can't force you to go to sleep, but strongly encourage that you do, so you can get the full night of rest We will be pulling into the Capitol station around four in the morning. You will sleep until 6:00 a.m., eat breakfast together on the train, then take a car to the tribute center. Tomorrow is the tribute parade, so you will meet with your prep teams and stylists, and will be getting ready all day tomorrow.”  
I stare around the room as she talks. It’s ornately decorated, with lush carpeted floors and heavy curtains on the windows. The land outside rushes by quickly; all a green blur. My district sliding away entirely too fast.  
I notice a woman standing by the doorway to the car. She’s dressed in all black loose clothing, a strip of fabric across her mouth. He head is shaved, and she stares at the ground. She appears to be a servant of some kind. I make a mental note to ask about her later.  
Tresha continues, “You will be training for the rest of the week, and I will inform you two of any important events before they happen. Now if you excuse me, I have plans to make.” She rushes from the room, her pointy heels stabbing the floor.  
Baye stands up and follows her. I look over at Marikan and he shrugs. He falls back into the couch, an exhausted expression on his face.  
After a moment of silence, I say “... So Marikan, right? How-”  
“ Mari,” he interupts. “Sorry. Everyone calls me Mari.”  
I smile gently. “So, Mari, how were your goodbyes?”  
He furrows his brows. “Um they were- ah- alright I suppose. I mean not that they were good or anything. What about them would be good? But it’s not like- like you know-”  
“They were terrible weren’t they?” I cut him off. He slumps a little in his seat and nods.  
“My mom had to come in last because it took so long for everyone else to calm her down. And even then, she was just ranting the whole time about how unfair the whole system was that I barely even got to tell her goodbye. My brother and sister were sweet though. Rowan apologized, you know, for not being able to volunteer for me. But i just told him that it was alright, because it is. Out of the three of us, I’m glad it was me that has to go- not that I’m happy to go. I know everyone will miss me. Sheri- sorry my sister was crying the whole time during our goodbye. I wish no one had to- and… I’m sorry. I’m talking too much.” He rubs his palms into his eyes and looks away from me, a blush creeping up his cheeks.  
I try to offer him a reassuring grin. “Hey it’s okay. I really don’t mind. You can talk as much as you want to me. I don't know exactly what you’re going through, but right now, I’m the person on this train that probably understands the best. It feels as if you’re leaving a part of your heart back at the district, right?” He nods again. “Yeah my goodbyes were no walk in the park either.” I think of Denali’s confession and all of my family’s worried faces.  
Mari makes eye contact with me for the first time, a look of gratitude in his eyes. He pushes off from the couch and stands up.  
“I’m going to get ready for dinner,” he mutters, and before he leaves, I see him rubbing at his cheeks which are wet from a tear or two. I realize I’m all alone again with the exception of the girl in black. I stand up and try to make eye contact with her, but she doesn’t look up. After a minute, I give up and try to find my room.  
And I’m completely amazed by what I find. A queen size, four poster bed with what must be a hundred pillows sits in the middle of the floor. A closet full of clothes is on one side of the room, and on the other side is another doorway that leads to my own bathroom. On the bedside table rests a small call button. I assume it summons one of the girls in black.  
I change out of my dress into a light blue smock with soft leggings underneath that I had randomly pulled from the closet. It’s then that Tresha steps into my room, saying it’s time for dinner.  
We walk to the dining car together, and Tresha takes a seat the head of the table set up in the middle of the room. I see Baye and Mari are already sitting. But it’s the food that really catches my attention. As soon as I walk in, I’m accosted by a plethora of delicious smells. They’re intoxicating. Sweet and spicy with undertones of savory, all coming from the feast laid out on the table.  
I’m interrupted from my thoughts then. “Please, sit,” Tresha tells me, and I realize that I’ve been standing by the doorway for the past minute. I rush forward and take my seat. The women in black are already on the move serving us.  
The woman standing over my shoulder serves me a caramelized steak with a broccoli and potato cream soup on the side. A watery green liquid is poured into my cup. I’m uncomfortable with her serving me, and as I look around the table, I can see Mari is too. He makes eye contact, and shrugs as if to say that he doesn’t like it, but it must just be the way things are. I see Mari gets a larger serving than I do, but it makes sense. He is male, taller than me, and still growing. I pick up my fork and dig into my food. When the first bite hits my tongue, I almost moan. It’s the richest, most flavorful food I have ever tasted.  
I look up for a moment to see Mari hesitantly pick up his spoon, and it hits me that he’s probably never used one before. He looks around to Tresha and Baye for examples before spooning a bit of the soup into his mouth. His eyes widen and he attacks the remainder of the dish with fervor.  
Meanwhile Tresha has been prattling on for the whole meal. “These meals have been specially portioned for you to help you with your specific calorie intake. They’re designed for your personal weight and fat gain so you can be in your best condition when you get to the games. Just like your drinks, they have been packed full of vitamins and essential nutrients to keep you healthy and happy.”  
I take a suspicious sip of the green liquid and find that it’s surprisingly fruity. Curious.  
Mari, Tresha, and I all take our time to eat, but Baye seems to be eating as fast as he can. The expression on his face tells me that he would rather be literally anywhere else but here.  
Tresha pauses her lecture to glare at him as his fork clatters against his plate.  
“Try not to choke,” she says dryly.  
Baye grabs his throat dramatically, pretending to gasp for air, then abruptly drops his hands. He shoves his chair back and stands up. He shoots a dirty look at Tresha before he struts out of the room, leaving his half eaten food on the table. A woman rushes forward and starts to clean it up.  
“Ugh what a child,” Tresha sniffs, turning her nose up. We all finish the remainder of our food in silence. Tresha gets up as soon as she’s done, muttering something under her breath. It’s just me and Mari again.  
He looks to me with a smirk. “Wow that's some amazing team morale.” And I laugh. I laugh so hard my cheeks hurt and I’m gasping for air. Mari joins in after a bit. I’m not even sure why we’re laughing; the joke wasn’t even that funny .Maybe it’s just an expression of all our emotions; fear, anger, anxiety. Or maybe we’re just so high strung that we need a release. I laugh at how messed up this situation is. I laugh until my eyes start leaking. And Mari just laughs along with me.  
After a while, our plates have been cleared away and we slowly regain our composure. I sigh loudly. Mari looks up at me through thick lashes.  
“We are so royally screwed aren’t we?” He asks me.  
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “Maybe?” He leans back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling.  
“I didn’t expect to die this way.”  
His words surprise me. “I don't think anyone really expects to be chosen for the Hunger Games.” I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “ I’m going to go check on Baye.” He gives me a thumbs up and remains staring at the ceiling as I leave.  
It doesn’t take me long to find Baye’s room. I knock on the door and hear a voice say. “Come in.”  
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. He’s sprawled on his bed, and lifts a hand in greeting. I notice that his shirt is off, and feel a blush bloom in my cheeks.  
“What was that with Tresha?” I ask. He sighs dramatically.  
“She’s just uptight. I think her tight bun cuts off circulation to her brain. I’ve had to put up with her for three years and she hasn’t changed one bit.”  
I nod, even though he’s not looking, and turn around to leave before I remember something.  
“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. Those women dressed in black, who are they?”  
He sits up to look at me, a strange expression on his face. I blush even more at seeing his chest. “Avox,” he replies. “Either war prisoners or criminals. The Capitol captures them. Shaves their heads, then cuts out their tongues. The rest of their lives, they’re forced to act as slaves.” I feel the blood drain from my face, and Baye laughs at my expression. He flops back down on his bed.  
“Weren’t expecting that answer, were you?” I wasn’t.  
“I’m going to leave,” I falter.  
“I’ll be here.” he mutters, still chuckling gently.  
I lay awake at night, thoughts rushing through my head. I can’t believe what the Capitol does to those people. Well… actually I can. If they will force children to fight to the death, cutting out the tongues of war criminals is nothing in comparison. “Everything about this world we live in is so messed up,” I whisper aloud. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I finally fall into a merciful, but fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I have made an Instagram account for this story where I will be posting my concept art and images, when I'll be posting the next chapter, and inside information. If your curious, look it up @the_27th_hungergames and give it a follow to stay updated! Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

Tresha wrinkles her nose and says, “Thanks for finally showing up.” I collapse into a seat and eat breakfast in silence as Tresha rambles on about schedules and times. I tune her out; I’ll just go where they tell me to and when.  
After breakfast, we’re lead to a car that takes us around the city. My eyes are glued to the window, and I’m starting to feel more awake. The Capitol is the cleanest, brightest place I’ve ever seen. The impossibly tall buildings glitter as if made with crushed pearls. There are people of every skin color, natural and unnatural, their shiny tones match the shiny city. They smile as they walk, wave to each other and laugh as if they haven’t a care in the world. Happy faces and bright colors that scream individuality all blend together somehow. My eyes can barely take everything in.  
Soon we’re rolling to a stop, and being escorted into a low, square building. I glance over at Marikan. He’s staring around, just as wide-eyed as I am. We’re led inside and introduced teams of people- our prep teams. I’m only able to catch one of their names, a woman called Bauble, who dresses to her name. She wears huge orbs on her ears that are filled with glitter and she towers over me in white knee high boots with six inch heels. Mari is pulled away into a different room by his own prep team.   
They order me to strip down and lay on a table. The cool air sends goosebumps over my naked body as they wash me off. I try not to make any sounds as they wax every single inch of hair except my head. They rub an ointment over my body to calm the irritation and shampoo and condition my curls.   
I feel as clean as I’ve ever been when another woman who I find out is named Kosumi announces that I am ready to see Hydrangea. My eyes widen. What is Hydrangea? A perfume of some type?   
I am led into a room where my eyes are immediately accosted by insanely bright colors and I realize that Hydrangea is not another beauty treatment but a man, my stylist. He wears a neon pink suit jacket and an inexplicable lack of pants. His hair is slicked back and dyed to match. His skin is tinted a light rose; his teeth are blindingly white. As soon as he sees me a smile stretches his face pulling everything too tight.   
“Oh Kye! You natural beauty. Welcome to the Capital!” He squeals and rushes forward to hug me. I suddenly become aware of my lack of clothing.   
“Ah … “ I awkwardly mutter. “Thank you.”   
“Any time. Girl! I’m going to make you look freakin’ fabulous!”   
He gives me a robe to cover myself with and we sit down to eat a lunch that is spread out for us.   
“So Kye darling, tell me about yourself.”  
“Well what do you want to know?”  
“You got somebody special back at home?”  
Color rushes to my face. I stammer, “Oh. Yeah. His name’s Denali. We’ve been together for three years.”  
“Oh steamy! Is he a looker?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.  
I flush even more. “I guess.”  
His full-throated laugh echoes throughout the room. “Oh I bet he is. So tell me, what do you think you bring to the table from District 7?”   
The question catches me off guard. I ponder for a second and sit up a little straighter. “Well I like to think that I can be witty and charming at times.”  
Hydrangea reaches over and pats me on the leg. “Oh I bet you can.” 

…

The skin tight jumpsuit is surprisingly flexible, however the branches extending from my shoulders and headdress are rather cumbersome. The limbs of the tree are laden with fabric leaves and heavy fist-sized gemstones carved into apples.   
I have to say I look … absolutely ridiculous.   
Hydrangea leads me down a hallway where we meet up with Mari. His eyes widen and he tries his best not to laugh. As soon as I see what he’s wearing my mouth drops open in indignation. In comparison to me, he’s dressed pretty plainly. A button up flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, plain pants, and heavy work boots. A lumberjack’s cap tops the outfit and a big ax hangs at his side.   
“Why does he get to dress like that when I have to wear all this?” I gesture down at myself. “I thought we had to match!”   
The man standing next to Mari pipes up, “Oh no, honey. There’s nothing in the rulebook that says you have to match.”   
“Yeah. We thought you two would contrast nicely.” Hydrangea continues.   
I glance over at Mari who is trying his best not to laugh at me but is failing miserably.   
“What are you laughing at?” I bark.   
He tries to sober up but a smile still tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Absolutely nothing.”   
The man standing next to him introduces himself.  
“I’m Hyacinth Hornthrow, Hydranga’s twin.”  
I notice they look exactly the same except that Hyacinth’s color palette is all purple.   
“Oh baby! You both look so good!”   
He puts his arm around Hydrangea and they lead us down another hallway into an enormous, brightly lit room.   
It’s bustling with activity. We walk by several ornately decorated platforms on wheels. They seem to represent the individual districts and I remember that they are called floats. We walk past a coal mine, a field full of wheat, a farm, and several other floats until we come to where Baye and Tresha are waiting for us. They stand next to a forest scene; a small hill with a flat top. Knee- high trees line the edges and a big banner that says District 7 is suspended above it. I glance up at my headdress; we’ll fit right in.   
Tresha welcomes us to the tribute parade. “This is where the Capital shows off. They display us in elaborate costumes, flaunting their wealth. This is also where the picking of the favorites begins.”  
Tresha continues, “You will stand on these floats to be presented to all of Panem. Wave, smile, scream, whatever you want, just don’t leave the float until the parade is over. You will going on seventh.” Mari and I nod our understanding.  
When she’s done Baye pulls both of us over. “You know what they always say? ‘To good luck and good life’ ?” Mari and I exchange a look. “It’s bullshit. Luck doesn’t have anything to do with the games. It’s all up to odds and there are ways to tip the odds in your favor. You need to get the Capitol to like you; you need the sponsors to like you. But most importantly, you need the gamemakers to like you. If they think you’re interesting, if they think you’ll add something new to the games, they’ll keep you alive, or at least won’t actively try to kill you. The thing that kills you the fastest is boredom. So what am I saying? You need to make yourself memorable. Be charming, be angry, be ruthless, just be unique. We’ll figure out your angles later this week. But start it now. This is where everything begins.”   
The paint feels heavy on my eyelids. I never understood the importance of this moment before now. I didn’t realize how this would shape what was possibly the rest of my life. My palms feel slick, and my lungs can’t seem to get enough air.  
Baye brings me back. “So no, not to good luck. But rather, to good odds.” He turns away from us as Tresha pulls him into a conversation with our stylists.  
Mari faces me, the panic on his face mirrors how I feel.  
“Kye- how do we stand out? I don’t know. This moment is supposed to be dramatic and important but- but…” He trails off. His hands go up to his face, but he remembers his makeup, and they drop back to his sides.   
I force air into my chest and try to connect ideas in my head.  
“I think I have an idea…”

… 

Our float rolls up seemingly of its own accord to the starting point of the parade.  
Districts 1-6 have already gone before us, and I can hear the roar of the crowd outside.  
Mari and I stand on the float, both tense with anticipation. A light above the doorway flashes green, and we move forward around a tight corner. I’m suddenly blinded by the bright sunlight of a dazzling sunset. The crowd screams at our appearance.  
We are at the head of a long street. Risers that are full to bursting have been set up on either side of us. In front of us in the procession rolls a tank, sleek and severe looking. I glance behind us, and see a legion of peacekeepers marching in step.  
So many eyes are on me.  
I freeze in my place, jaw locked tight, hands curled into fists. I can’t seem to get myself to move.  
Just then I feel a touch on my elbow. I jerk my head and Mari’s standing there, a nervous but reassuring smile on his face. “We can do this” he mouths, and his gently shaking fingers flood warmth back into my body. We begin to put my plan into action.  
I stretch my right arm up above my head, and see Mari mirror me. I let it fall to my side then lift my other arm up parallel to the ground, My right foot stretches out, then circles my body, and that hand glides back up into the air. I turn around to face away from Mari, and flow through one of the traditional dances of my home. Every person in the District knows this dance; its done at every single gathering. Its also the best representation of my district that I can think of at the moment. I know this will set us apart; I’ve never seen any other tributes dance during the parade. Hopefully this has the effect I want.  
I turn again to see Mari. The nervousness has melted off his face and he’s beaming, excited that the crowd is cheering so loudly. I smile back at him, and that’s when I notice the first rose thrown on our float. And many more follow. We go through the motions of the whole dance, the gems of my tree casting sparkling lights everywhere. We clasp hands and pull away. He spins me around and dips me as low as he can without having my branches touch the floor.  
I laugh at how much it reminds me of my district. It’s almost like if I block out all the noise and close my eyes, I won’t be in the Capitol, surrounded by citizens, but back I’m back in my home. For a second, I can almost smell the sweet muskiness of tree sap.  
At last, it’s time for the final move. I wrap one arm around Mari’s shoulders and brace the other on his hip. He places both of his hands on my hips, and as I jump up, his arms lock. He spins me in a graceful circle, my feet gliding over the ground, his arms only shaking a little bit.  
He places me back down, both of us breathing hard, and the roar of the crowd comes back to me. I can hear a group chanting “District 7!” I wrap my arm around Mari’s shoulders again and wave to the crowd, smiling so hard it feels as if it will split my face. We are on top of the world.   
The crowd quiets down as we come to a stop before a enormous mansion. President Rolltide walks out onto a balcony to give a short speech. She welcomes us to the games, and talks about honor and some other things. I don’t pay too much attention to her. The blood roaring in my ears makes it sound as if the crowd is still cheering. She finishes her speech, and raises her hands over her head. The Anthem of Panem flares up, and we circle around the cul-de-sac once before we disappear through a doorway.   
The whole procession comes to a stop as I hear heavy doors close behind us. Our team rushes up to our float.   
They’re crooning and telling us how amazing and united we looked out there.   
Baye walks up to me and leans in to ask, “Was the dancing your idea?” I nod and feel the gems in the tree move along with me.  
“Genius,” he mutters, but that’s all he’s able to say before the rest of the team talks over him. Tresha hugs me, and Hydrangea praises me. The atmosphere is filled with a contagious energy, and for the rest of the night, it feels like nothing can touch me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers. I know its been a long while since I've posted anything. Depression is whack, you know? I'll try to write more consistently from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! My name's Ava and I'm new to this website. I'm also pretty new to writing. I'd love some constructive criticism, and I hope you like my story! I'll be posting pretty irregularly, but I will do my best to make it consistent.


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